


A Baptism of Loss

by Ameliapoand



Category: BioWare - Fandom, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anger, Angst and Humor, Best Friends, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fear, Fear of Death, Five Stages of Grief, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Heart-to-Heart, Heartache, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Minor Character(s), Multi, Rage, Romantic Fluff, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 10:25:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5001151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ameliapoand/pseuds/Ameliapoand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A detailed, in-depth account of events after the death of Clan Lavellan, separated into four chapters. The news shatters a quiet day of Skyhold, causing Lavellan to become possessed with an unearthly rage, threatening the lives closest to her. After all the commotion, she flees in to the Fade deeply ashamed, only to be found by Solas, who attempts to convince her to return home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The news came when they were painting.

Soft raindrops pattered onto Skyhold’s grounds in a musical rhythm, like old friends greeting each other in a deliberately serene tempo, meant to calm and soothe. The rain, of course, made everything wet, causing a myriad of surfaces to be covered with grey pools of reflective water that churned just as the sky did above them, all broiling clouds tinged with darkness underneath. Even the battlements looked dreary, the mist clinging to the massive walkways so desperately that it was as if they were melted into the chain of endless mountains donning every side. It was a masterpiece portfolio of grey - muted, vast, but undeniably beautiful.

Overall, it started off as a quiet day for the Inquisition. Ellana, feeling the joy of such a rare occurrence, wandered the castle’s corridors with a mind absent of the dedicated focus she was so used to bearing. She trailed a few fingers along one of the stone walls, liking how its rough texture gently scraped against her callused skin. The castle was finally starting to feel familiar after all of these months. It was becoming… home, even, despite its squabble-some residents and the petty complaints they drowned her in. 

Ellana shuffled towards the end of the corridor she now traveled and began descending its staircase, her fine leather boots making a padded noise similar to the raindrops dripping onto Skyhold’s roof. She let her feet carry her into Solas’ study and spotted him at once, the fact that this was his room barely registering in her vacant mind. He stood before the room’s east wall, the stone there covered in dark, thick paint that also covered Solas. His clothes were stained with the stuff, ominously looking more like blood than actual paint, but Ellana shook her head free of the thought. Such gruesome notions would certainly not do, for this was a peaceful day. Right now, the only trouble Solas could fall prey to is running out of paint and being unable to finish his work! What would such a situation look like anyway? Ellana glanced at the studious elf and had to fight back a laugh that threatened to spill out of her throat. The sight of him scowling amidst his own hopelessness… it was almost too comical to imagine. Instead, it was his eyes that invited Ellana, their grey depths bright with a pure dedication he seemed to reserve for only the most important things. Things that mostly consisted of spirits and the Fade.

Ignoring the usual pang in her heart she always associated with Solas, Ellana strode into the room, inhaling the bitter fragrance that the paint emitted and cringing. She closed the distance between them with a few, playful skips, hopping dramatically one final time before smiling up at him, her face bright and expectant. “What are you painting now?” she asked Solas, her eyes darting to the dark outline displayed magnificently upon the wall in front of them. “I can’t quite make it out yet.”

The next moment passed by with slightly bated breath. The last time she and Solas had been alone, their meeting had ended in utter heartache, the pain from such an ordeal still in the healing stages. Would he remember? Words from those instances hung suspended in the air, momentarily clouding the room with a heat both intense and dizzying.

_I have not forgotten the kiss._

_Perhaps you should._

But this was not that day. When their eyes met, Solas smiled warmly at Ellana, and the light radiating between their souls abruptly came together as one - elf to elf, friend to friend, kin to kin. The elation and relief inside her heart was so profound, Ellana couldn't help but grin back. Solas’ pale eyes shined excitedly as he gestured towards the mural with a hand that curled around a thin painting brush smeared with black. Ellana immediately found herself resisting the urge to snatch it out of his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, she did just that, impishly leaping away from him before he could retaliate.

“It’s the siege of Adamant Fortress. Well, more specifically, it will be,” he said in a confident manner, raising a narrow eyebrow in response to her theft. Solas wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or glower at his loss. He only sighed, shaking his head while the mischievous Inquisitor inspected his handiwork with another glance.

Ellana wondered at the mural, curious to know when and where it was that Solas had taught himself this skill. Her gaze scanned over a cluster of ominous looking things towards the far corner of the landscape… wait, were those eyes? Round and circular and positively… well, evil looking - they were! The familiar eyes peered back at her in a frozen stare and Ellana fought down a wave of nausea that pooled in the bottom of her stomach. Frowning deeply, she pointed towards the outlined drawing, her wordless question burning darkly in the tense lines of her scowl.

Solas followed the direction of Ellana’s outstretched arm and shrugged innocently. “Are you pointing to the eyes? Surely you remember Nightmare, the spirit we fought in the Fade? Do you think it is a good likeness of its face? I find that the animosity behind the eyes is perhaps the most difficult part of the mural to portray…”

Ellana’s scowl deepened, her intricate vallaslin furrowing along with the muscles beneath it. She combed both hands through her long, silver hair and shook out the loose curls sticking to her skin, attempting to cool off the sweat that had dewed upon her neck. Solas watched and remained silent, though his shining eyes dimmed slightly in concern.

“It is a true likeness, Solas. All too true of one, I think,” she said quietly, though not unhappily, before reaching forward and touching him on the shoulder. “You are very talented, friend. You should be proud of this.”

Solas softened at her touch, his eyes set ablaze with sincerity once more. “If it troubles you, Inquisitor, I could certainly paint something else in its stead. Perhaps the representation of Divine Justinia would be a more appropriate account of our experience?”

But that wasn’t what Ellana had wanted. She laughed lightly and toed a few steps towards the fantastic mural, trying to imagine what would be there in just a few short days. She extended a few fingertips up to touch the wall but ultimately restrained herself; she did not want to disturb or smear the magnificence of Solas’ work in any possible way. She turned back towards the waiting elf instead.

“No,” Ellana said, her full lips turned up once more in an encouraging smile, “Keep it. If you are to document our experiences with these paintings, then I want them to be as accurate as possible. Add the Divine if you wish but please do not modify your mural on account of my idle comments. It would be a waste of creative talent,” she said evenly, knowing that she would probably never be able to understand the artistry that this sort of creation demands.

A pleased grin tickled Solas’ lips apart and he bowed his head respectively in response. “As you wish, Inquisitor.”

Ellana snorted loudly, an immediate and involuntary response that nearly shook the castle’s walls. The smirking elf quickly closed the distance between them with a loud smack on the same shoulder she had just embraced. Solas could not help but flinch away from her. “Don’t friggin’ _bow_ to me, Solas. Especially when I’m trying to be nice to you! _Maker’s Breath._ I can barely stand all of you calling me ‘Inquisitor’ most days. It makes me feel itchy, like I’m wearing a robe made of nettles that’s stuck to my skin.”

“That’s greatly descriptive of you, da’len,” Solas said mildly. “And I see you have been spending time with Sera again! How quaint.” There was a wicked gleam deep within his eyes that betrayed his polite courtesy, however, and his pale irises shone once more with mirth and laughter. Like this, Solas remained a magnificent sight, and Ellana wanted nothing more than to take his stained hands in hers and twirl about the messy study as if they were but mere children. The two of them together and free of troubles and demons and heartbreak… Ellana’s gaze found purchase with his once more and she was suddenly breathless, tempted and mesmerized by the idea taking form and the nearness of his body in proximity to her own. 

When… had he gotten so close?

“Solas,” Ellana breathed, his name tasting like honey upon her shell-shocked tongue, “I didn’t know you had freckles on your face.” Clusters of pale amber dotted the tops of his nose and razor cheekbones, like some sort of pigment bridge made of magic and childhood. They were so faint from afar but so noticeable up close; how could she have missed this about him?

“Why didn’t you tell me you had freckles?” she asked, her breathless whispers replaced by an adamant strength that sustained her. They were close enough so that a warmness was pressed between them, operating like a thin veil of insulation which threatened to dissipate at the slightest movement or jilt of their bodies. She smiled up at him and suddenly her countenance was all dimples and light and hope and grace; Ellana was a glowing torch of beauty in the day’s rainy afterglow. She was absolutely radiant and all too-inviting, even unconsciously, and so it seemed proper when Solas clasped each of his palms behind his back in a silent reminder of the restraint he promised to show her in times like these, such as when their private moments grew… intimate. She had asked as much upon that fateful afternoon when she’d turned away his advances, slight as they had been. Even so, Ellana was utterly unaware of the rapier pain now blooming throughout the entirety of his chest, clinging to his heart and lungs like the thick ivy he had seen lay stake over the ruined metropolis that was Ostagar in the Fade. Yet, Solas said nothing of the matter and shrugged lightly, not daring to move an inch closer to the marvelous woman in front of him, though he did not move away from her either.

“I suppose… because you have never asked, da’len.” He spoke evenly enough and although his voice was calm, the facetiousness of Solas’ words betrayed his masked demeanor, earning yet another smile from the lovely Lavellan. This time he grinned back; her cheerful spirit being entirely too infectious to deny. “It seems we share this trait as well, though your vallaslin does well to cover them. They are so faint between the ink… I almost did not see them.”

Ellana’s face registered surprise, creating long arcs of space between her brows and eyelids. “Wait, really?” she asked. Solas nodded, and she brought her hands to her cheeks, tracing each index finger along where she saw his eyes scan over. “I used to get them as a child, but only in the summers when I’d play all day long in the forests. It must be our running around Thedas,” she mused appreciatively before beaming to herself. “At any rate, I’m glad they’re back! I have missed them.” 

“You have?”

“Of course I have.”

Solas cocked his head to the side, true bewilderment igniting the paleness of his irises into marvelous opals. “Why is that? What exactly do they mean to you?” he asked, once more surveying the white and freckled gold landscape of her visage. In the excitement of his confusion, Solas had forgotten himself; all pretenses of stoicism had evaporated, leaving nothing in him but a ferocious desire to swoop down and press his lips to every precious freckle upon her body. If not for the countless years of meditation he spent isolated from the world and the instincts of the flesh, Solas might have found himself doing just that, simultaneously undoing every thread of trust between them they might have ever had in a single second. He wanted to laugh at the thought and curse himself for being the fool he knew he was, but Ellana was soon misinterpreting the renewed smile he donned for one of mischief or wickedness; did she not understand how tempting she already was to him, or even, the depths of his care for her?

No, of course she didn’t. Ellana was blissfully unaware of many things, Solas being one of them. The glint of a faraway memory filmed over her eyes as she considered, and answered, his original questions. “They mean many wonderful things to me, friend.”

“Like?” Solas questioned, his brows furrowing low towards the bridge of his nose. “Should I repeat my questions? Or will you continue to dance around them so persistently that even Dorian would be proud of such a feat?” 

The mere name of the Tevinter caused Ellana’s face to become brilliantly illuminated, and her loveliness was suddenly so fierce that any additional words which bubbled on the surface of Solas’ tongue was instantly dissolved into a nothing made of further confusion and idle wonder. It warmed him, and before Solas could stop himself, he was smiling down at Ellana, speaking in such a soft way that it returned her thoughts to him, and wildly so.

“You love him very much,” he said, knowing himself to be right. “You have come so far in your journey, lethallan; remember a time when you couldn’t help but be distrustful of humans?”

Ellana nodded, silver hair spilling and curling around her delicate features. “Every night I would retreat to my tent racked with shivers and body spasms,” she explained, the memories of the Inquisition’s initial months heavy in her mind. “It seemed their mere presence to be a toxin to my body, one I was afraid I would never recover from. But then I started to _listen to them,_ and with that, came eventual understanding. By the end of Haven, I had all but decided their companionship to be a neutral one, for though they might have not meant me harm, that did not mean I still wasn’t a foreign thing to them - something to be accustomed to rather than accepted. Everything _changed_ when I met Dorian. All of my previous ideals and thoughts and convictions; they didn't seem to matter any more. I grew to trust him, quicker than with any other shemlen, and before I knew it…”

“You found yourself loving him, despite his human heritage.”

“Yes,” she confessed ardently. “So much. More deeply than I have loved anyone, save my Keeper.” 

Solas grew curious again when Ellana searched him with her violet eyes, trying to find something in his face, it seemed. “I didn’t know there were so many types of love until I came here,” she continued on, speaking more slowly and more carefully than before, “Loving so many people here makes my heart feel like it’s both endless and empty, and that even if I were to be drunk on love’s intoxication and completely immersed in it, I would still want more. Despite my troubles and burdens, despite the blind rage I fear will consume me before our quest is over, it feels like I will always want more and to _give_ more in return. Does that make me foolish?” she wondered aloud. “And if it does make me a fool, then why don’t I care?”

The day’s rain seemed to all but cease for a moment, so quiet was the study. The beat of their hearts was nearly audible as Solas freed his hands from their own grasp, their nerves tingling and stinging with fresh blood flow. He extended one of them towards Ellana and proceeded to caress her chin with his thumb and forefinger, just as a comforting friend, perhaps even Dorian, would feel unashamed to do. 

“It is my belief that you are brave, lethallan, and much stronger than those who do not let any amount of love into their hearts. A life without love seems hardly a life at all, so I am glad to serve under the name of one who feels so deeply in their passions. It would be a tragedy if the one who inspires so much good and grace around her remained unmoved by it all,” said Solas, his melodious accent curling around the words in natural and lilting embraces. Ellana continued to peer up at him while he held her face, and he watched as her eyes softened, liquefying into bottomless chasms of violet oceans. He could see that she believed him and took what he said to be true, for she offered up no other response than to stay embraced in their gazes and surrendered to his touch. Their silent moments together satisfied the harshest depths of his soul, the places his being called out for her, for Ellana, soothing the ache that was her name branded into his organs. They were enough like this, however distant the narrow space between them seemed, and he contented himself to touch her for a few seconds longer, enjoying the feel of her elegant chin now in his palm.

 _I see you,_ their wordlessness seemed to speak, _I see you and you are beautiful._

At last, when the rhythm of their hearts untangled themselves from their merge, Solas willingly allowed his hand fall to his side. Ellana looked almost thankful for the release, though she smiled up at him in encouragement, eliciting an unconscious twitch of his own lips. So much of their words was easily communicated between them by expression and gestures alone; how could their souls not have the understanding they did? Was there a world where they would not be inclined towards one another?

Solas found himself chuckling when Ellana suddenly offered up his stolen paintbrush. She held it between their faces like a talisman, the edges dangling precariously from the tips of her fingers. She unexpectedly let it go, and Solas caught it with a deft move from his wrist, triumph and smugness written all over his angular face.

“Let me watch you paint,” said Ellana, seemingly back to her playful disposition from before. “Let the rain fall and the evening come and let me see what talents possess my kin.” She, for all her mischievous ways looked equally as triumphant, as if she knew Solas could not and would not dare refuse her. 

Refuse her, he would not do. Solas nodded, a pleased notion, and strode over to the eastern wall once more. Ellana followed suit and found an bare space of stone for her to lean upon, and she tipped her head back, momentarily closing her eyes in the comfort of the rain crashing down above them. 

“Trees, sunshine, wildberries, strength, love, promises, childhood, and laughter,” she murmured absently, stifling a yawn the tranquil atmosphere provoked in her.

“What?” asked Solas, pausing his work momentarily to look at her again.

“Trees, sunshine, wildberries, strength, love, promises, childhood, and laughter,” she repeated, nearly humming out the words. “That is what my freckles mean to me. They remind me of my home in the Dales. Of my first home, that is … _this_ is my home now. You are all my home.”

Completely unaware was she of the magnitude of Solas’ grin, the dazzling gesture dawning as slowly as the sun when it rises beyond the peaks of the Frostback Mountains, and just as luminous. He turned back to his work and Ellana resumed her humming, both of them completely in bliss, and at peace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor finds out her clan is dead. Bad shit happens. Ellana tries to kill Solas. Oops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solas should rreeaallyy stop calling Ellana by elvish pet names.

Ellana watched him work for hours, steadily transfixed by each delicate twist and twirl of his hand. Flawless strokes of paint were layered over the mural, and soon, the beginning of an image was could be seen: the shambled belly of Adamant Fortress. The black paint he used emitted strange, thick fumes that permeated the air of Solas’ study, and Ellana soon became entranced by the smell, as well as the symphonic tempo of the day’s endless rain assaulting Skyhold’s main roof. She eventually sunk to the ground in a sleepy mess of tired limbs, perching her chin atop her knees as she watched Solas create and shape fantastical things that stole the breath from her lungs. It was quickly becoming a perfect afternoon, though no one could have foreseen how doomed the entire thing, and they, were.

Tension first arose hours deep into the evening, when daylight had all but fled their mountainous home. Solas worked relentlessly and passionately, his arms and eyes never straying from their duty, not even for an instant. He was a mesmerizing image to behold, and so it was with great reluctance that Ellana tore her gaze away from him as Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen strode into the room, their eyes hard and gleaming in the dim torchlight. If one could not discern that something was wrong from the hesitant way in which they approached her, it was surely perceivable in each of their faces. The three advisors wore expressions made of cracked grief, as if they were expressing emotions that did not fully belong to them. Cullen looked by far the most ill, however. Sweat, clammy and glistening covered his skin in a fever-less rage that seemed to deplete his flesh of any color. Though he did not sway on his feet, he looked in danger of fainting, or worse. Scattered glances cast towards him by Josephine and Leliana did nothing to alleviate these assumptions; did they think the same? Was he ill?

Whatever the truth, it - the whole spectacle, was beyond alarming. Reflexes of steel had Ellana on her feet and prepared within a moment, though she couldn’t stop the dreadful apprehension that clutched at her guts in a viselike snare. There was only one reason for a display this silent and ominous. It was something Ellana had become all too familiar with these past few months as the Inquisition's leader.

Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

Of course, Josephine was the first to speak, her voice perfectly polite and betraying nothing of the circumstance whatsoever. “Good evening, Inquisitor,” she said as the three advisors came to a halt before Ellana. “May we speak to you in private?” 

The beautiful ambassador was grim, though perhaps the most open and vulnerable in her body language; Leliana was alarmingly rigid in her posture while Cullen was downright remote. He would not meet Ellana’s eyes, and it seemed as if he was purposely looking at everything else in the room, except her face and even where she stood. Why was he acting like she didn’t exist? Up close, Ellana could see how pale his really skin was, like the parchment her clan used to sometimes make out of birch trees... or even wax. She tried to find the words to ask if he was in good health, to ask him _anything_ in fact, but no sound came out of her mouth. Instead, she remained silent, locked in a frozen cage of fear. The fear of what, she did not yet know.

“Solas is fine,” said the trembling Inquisitor, too impatient to care about discretion. “You can speak openly in front of him.”

The indomitable Solas was unsurprisingly at her side in an instant. “Josephine, Leliana, Cullen,” he politely addressed, staring equally at them with a measured glance, “What brings you here at this hour?” It was astonishing to hear him sound so unaffected; Ellana could detect no fear or uncertainty in his voice. As always, Solas remained voice of reason during an epidemic, and it took a measurable amount of willpower not to grasp his hand in hers. Perhaps Solas could even sense this, for he proceeded to shift the weight on his feet - a motion that put him marginally closer to the Inquisitor so that the sleeves of their tunics were touching. Coincidence or no, Ellana was thankful for the contact, as it alleviated a bit of the fear inside her stomach.

Curiously, this slight gesture is what provoked Cullen to finally join them. He positively stared at Solas, his gaze steady and unwavering as Solas returned the scrutiny with equal vigor. Though their eyes were not accusatory, something wordless seemed to pass between them, like some sort of message or understanding. Without warning, Cullen’s eyes were suddenly all over Ellana’s face, and through his search she could feel a tangible weight being pressed down on her chest. His eyes were so dark, so incredibly tormented; it was if he was in unbearable pain and said nothing of it. Ellana involuntarily stepped forward, putting Solas behind her as the instinct to comfort Cullen momentarily took over her body. She certainly did not expect him to flinch away from her, so when he did, Ellana wordlessly returned to her place at Solas’ side with each cheek aflame with embarrassment. She could feel her heart fracturing in the process, and when Solas frowned down at her, she was once more oblivious to him. Instead, she swallowed thickly and gathered herself.

A sigh escaped her lips. It was shaky and brittle, but resolute. Both hands reached up to tuck stray pieces of silver hair behind her ears, and then she steeled her will, burying the urge to fold her arms across her chest in an indignant manner. “I can only assume from your countenance that the gravest of things has happened,” she began slowly, “Although what, I cannot say. But before you report, please… I _beg_ that you tell me it has nothing to do with any of our companions so that I may be able to take my next breath in relative peace.” Ellana didn’t think she could withstand hearing that one of her inner circle has been mortally wounded, never mind the alternative. She proceeded to set her jaw, fighting down tsunamis of nausea that threatened to spill bile into her throat. 

Leliana almost seemed to smile. How could she smile at a time like this - whatever the time was? It was a pitiful mockery of the true thing, but still, her mouth turned up at the sides, her lips pink and full with shallow amusement. Perhaps as a spymaster, she was the most used to dealing with the delivery of unpleasant news. That had to have been true; it was the only logical explanation for the embers of hope still burning within her eyes. She looked kindly towards Ellana and inclined her head.

“The compassion you have for our forces is admirable, Inquisitor,” she said in her silken accent. “However, our news does not concern any of the inhabitants of Skyhold.” 

She paused, momentarily dropping her gaze with uncharacteristic reluctance. Yet, she recovered quickly and was speaking again, her shoulders both stiff and crooked with emotion.

“Reports from Wycome have arrived, Inquisitor.”

Terror, cold and jagged, clawed at Ellana’s insides. She suddenly felt made of ice, devoid of warmth and substance and dangerously breakable. She bounded forward so that she and the advisors were but mere inches apart, and they, surprised and overtaken by the violent undertone of such a movement, flinched at her approach.

Ellana inhaled sharply, looking at all of them in the face with such severity that even Cullen could not look away. “Report then!” she nearly snapped, her voice taking on a frighteningly dark quality. Josephine frowned, extending her hands in what looked like deep apology. 

“I’m so sorry, Inquisitor, but Clan Lavellan was —“

“Not _you.”_

The lady’s wide, bronze eyes stared uncomprehendingly at the Inquisitor as the razor sounding words sliced through her voice, shredding what she was about to say into invisible ribbons. Ellana shifted towards the right, where Cullen stood, and he peered down at her, desperation and torment etched all over his features just like Solas’ black paint slathered on the walls. 

“I want to hear you say it,” she said to him, her body quivering with terrible anticipation. His eyes pleaded with her in a wordless fashion, as if he could do nothing but beg for a mercy he was unable to physically ask for.

Cullen nearly breathed out his answer. “Why?” he asked, his lips paling further in what could only be perceived as shame. 

“Because you wouldn’t lie to me,” she said, convinced of this, her tone softening considerably at the pain in his eyes, “Because… I believe you and I need you to be the one who says it. _Please,_ Cullen.”

It did not take Cullen long to decide. How could he ever refuse her this? After but a moment, he nodded resignedly, shuddering as his next inhale, and her scrutiny, rattled him.

“The presence of our soldiers made everything worse,” he started, each syllable visibly draining him of strength. Ellana held still while he talked, not really even seeing his mouth move, instead focusing on the shaky syllables of his words. “Instead of intimidating them into surrender, Wycome’s army rioted, and the fighting quickly spread to every part of the city. Your clan was completely destroyed,” Cullen said numbly, still staring into her eyes, his breath faltering for a perceptible instant. “There were no survivors. I am… so sorry, Ellana. They’re gone.”

Ellana froze and looked at him in confusion, each eye narrowed in wordless curiosity. Gone. Did he say gone? What could that even… mean? Gone. G-O-N-E. Gh-aw-hn. It was as if the word wasn’t even real or proper anymore. What would happen if she tried saying it aloud? Was Cullen speaking nonsense? What tongue was he using? Surely it wasn’t their own because gone couldn’t have meant… it couldn’t have… no _it absolutely couldn’t have meant that her clan was --_

_Switch._

Time accelerated as hot fire suddenly replaced the ice in her veins. Ellana exhaled sharply through her nose, momentarily squinting her eyes shut against the wild heat now bleeding into her head. She did not notice how everyone’s gazes remained nervously trained upon her nor did she see both Cullen and Solas exchange another glance, this one fearful and apprehensive. Ellana cleared her throat noisily, opening her eyes to look at each of them, but seeing nothing.

“Thank you, Cullen,” she said quite evenly, the violet light in her eyes extinguishing as she turned away from him, her wavy hair bristling down her spine like vines of steel. Her feet graciously began carrying her away, seemingly striding towards Solas’ mural of their own accord. She was unaware of the seconds passing by in waiting absence, not even noticing how her own hands clenched and unclenched into fists by her sides. The room was totally and absolutely silent. Even the rain had quit their incessant music, as if vanishing on purpose to emphasize the horror of the situation. Not a single sound could be heard until Ellana spoke a final time, deadened and cold and alarmingly empty sounding.

“All of you. Leave. _Now.”_

If and when they did leave, she didn’t even know. Ellana was empty, a desolate vessel of skin and bones and silver hair and a tingling, pulsing sensation deep within her blood. A loud nothing filled and drowned her eyes and ears so that she could not see Leliana and Josephine shuffle hesitantly out of the open study, nor could she hear the faint murmur of encouragement Solas gave the shaking commander who could not meet his eyes. All that was remained was the pulsing, the pulsing, the pulsing. It was a warm vibration that beat to a rhythm, heating her from the inside out like a furnace - which was almost humorous due to the fact that she didn’t exist anymore. How could she? Her clan was obliterated. 

Dead. 

_Pulse._

Gone.

_Pulse._

_Pulse._

Each of her remaining kin had been erased from the face of the world, meaning she had been erased as well. She wasn’t alive anymore, and yet the strange, persistent drumbeat of a tingle continued to ignite her nerves with a fever. 

_Pulse._

Scorching. The fever was growing scorching. Is this what it felt like to fade away into nothing? Surely by now, she wasn’t even physically solid. The hollow spaces left behind by her clan was burning up too quickly by the heat in her veins for her to be solid. Where was her body? Ellana searched and searched, but was unable to locate it. Where did it go? Was it puddled on the floor? Evaporated into the sky? Did it even matter? When her soul finally realized that it was dead, would she join the Creators in the Beyond? Or would she meet the Maker instead, in his corrupted city of dreams and golden light?

Would her clan be there to greet her?

The pulses suddenly faltered, their musical beats twisting and slowing like dying hearts until, all at once, they became something new altogether. A fiery rage replaced the old music, demolishing the tick-tick-tick rhythm of the pulses into the roar of one fiery, lightning current. Thick bands of hot anger overwhelmed her senses, her skin, her blood and brain; the fire was consuming every particle of her being, and it was proving far too much to endure. She did exist now; she could feel her body again, standing motionless amidst a room of stone and loss.

Terrible, terrible: 

_l o s s._

Gone.

Ellana’s breathing turned ragged, her chest and abdomen suffocating under the inferno swelling within. Images of swords and death and red and screams and hurt and vallaslin assaulted her senses; she could hear the war cries of the shems who killed her kin blasting into her skull. She could feel their swords upon her body, tearing, ripping, plunging, executing. Blood burst inside her mouth as she watched the elves all fall to the ground, one after the other, the life draining from their limbs as the crazed soldiers hacked them off with their cruel blades. Shallow inhales caught in Ellana’s throat as Wycome’s fire _burned_ her. She was burning, was dying, was not fading away into the Beyond like she thought she was. No - this was something much different and infinitely worse - too terrible to even comprehend in the slightest. 

She was _feeling._

Bloodlust instantly replaced her tissue and organs. Ellana gasped, her hands becoming rigid claws at her sides that ached to destroy, just as she and her clan had been destroyed. _“DAMMIT,”_ she choked out, eyes immediately blurring as they flew open. A film of red covered her vision, and as the fire rose up inside her, Ellana shrieked, an agonizing sound that matched the agony within her. She exploded as the searing heat finally cracked open her body, her hand-claws flinging columns of white-hot flame in every direction. 

It was more magic than Ellana had ever known before, and the study splintered under the strength of the spells she cast. The mindless song of fury, primal and unstoppable, pounded away in her mind as mana flowed into her limbs, immobilizing her ability to see and accept anything beyond the red, the red, the endless red crushing her from the inside out. She turned, screaming in rage as spheres of fire erupted from her fingertips. The sound as they pulverized Solas’ desk was deafening, and Ellana could feel her ears splitting apart as her magic caused his written belongings and instruments of delicate material to wither into grey ash that did nothing but anger her further. They were dead just as her clan was dead and she wished to be dead but wasn’t, and there was nothing more infuriating than the idea of living without them for they were her family and now she was orphaned and alone and who was to stop her from burning down the world just as she had been burned down?

Something cool and firm gripped her shoulders, but she could not see what it was, for she was back in Wycome, standing amidst her slaughtered family while the flames of hatred ravaged their lifeless corpses. They would pay. The shems would all pay.

“Inquisitor!”

Someone familiar shouted her name. Ellana squirmed, attempting to twist out of who and what grasped her in violent shudders. A shout of vehement defiance tore out of her throat as she flung more fire in the direction of her captor, and for a moment she was released again and free, free to do whatever she wished and kill whoever she wished and — 

“Inquisitor, you must calm down!”

She was knocked backwards by a blast of frigid air that assaulted her skin and battled away the fire on her body and in her eyes. She grunted, pushing at the wind of ice with all of her might, but it was too strong. The endless cone of cold eventually overwhelmed her, extinguishing the red and stealing the flames from her throat. The sudden disruption of mana in her body felt exhausting to withstand; she gasped for air. Depleted once more, Ellana swayed on her feet and opened her frost-covered eyes to find Solas, not a foot away and glaring zealously into her face.

His clothes were charred and singed, but a blue barrier clung to the outline of his profile, shielding his body from the worst of her magic, it seemed. Blush colored his angled cheeks as he breathed heavily through his nose, contrasting deeply with the fevered grey of his eyes that glared into her face. This was how he looked during battle, all tense lines and cold fury masking his face. He had used _magic_ on her?

“Solas?” Ellana asked, confused. She fought to remain upright as new blood sluggishly replaced the absence of mana in her skin. Her silver curls stuck tight against her neck and ears, and as she shook her head free of its emptiness, they cascaded down her temples in disheveled locks of light that paraded the dark anger in her eyes. “You cast a _spell_ on me! Why did you do that?”

Before he could answer, footsteps, loud and thunderous, could be heard racing towards them from the great hall. Surely they would have heard all the commotion by now; it made sense. Ellana reflexively extended a palm out towards the room’s open door, using a fresh surge of mana to close it. She slightly curled her fingertips then, which caused the door’s knob to melt and become warped. It was quickly rendered unusable, and Ellana, satisfied at what she had done, returned her hand to her side and gazed wonderingly up at Solas.

There was no remorse in her eyes, no understanding of how far gone she was. Solas gently stepped forward and took her by the shoulders, digging his thumbs into her collar bones and lowering his face to hers so that they were eye-level. “You must remain in control, lethallan! Do not allow your grief to overwhelm you any further. What would your Keeper say to you in these moments? Would she want you to lose yourself as you are so dangerously close to doing?”

A dark gleam sparked in her eyes as Solas spoke. Noticing this, Solas felt the icy spike of mana flood his body once more. He swiftly retracted his hands, gathering the magic into them as her full lips crooked into a menacing snarl, her teeth clenched together and bared at him. 

“How _dare_ you call me that,” Ellana spit out venomously, _“Fenedhis lasa!_ How _dare_ you presume to know what my Keeper would want for me!” The fire was returning in her throat, and it was marginally harder to breathe than it had just been a moment ago. Ellana inhaled roughly, attempting to keep the red out of her eyes as Solas peered at her with a concern that was both distant and close. The fact that he couldn’t choose to be just one of those things was immeasurably typical, and Ellana brought her blazing gaze back to his, noticing how the edges of the room began to darken with thick blood.

“You are so arrogant,” she hissed, bitter and cross. Solas frowned deeply and shook his head, momentarily glancing towards the door to the room. It buckled as the people behind it demanded entry with their fists, though it showed no promise of opening any time soon. 

“Inquisitor!” they yelled, but she could not hear them.

“Inquisitor, _please_ ,” Solas urged, internally holding back the tide of a spell that begged to be released. He could feel his own power building up inside him like a dam, and he suppressed the mana’s urges, pushing them back down into the deep recesses of his tissues. “Try to see reason; there is nothing to be gained from this!”

A mutinous growl rumbled deep in Ellana’s chest. “Solas, you killed the shems who bound your spirit friend just three weeks ago!” she exclaimed angrily. “I watched from the side as you stamped out their lives forever. Where was your precious reason then, you hypocrite?”

Solas lowered his eyes mournfully, almost shamefully. “Ir abelas, Inquisi—”

“NO!” Ellana shouted. “You, of all people, have no right to _any_ of those words.”

The faraway off look in her eyes returned then, alerting Solas of new danger.

The red was back.

“You hate the Dalish so much,” she spat, each word like bitter poison on her tongue, “It’s amazing to see you use their language so freely without _choking_.” Solas looked like he wanted to argue, but Ellana cut him off again before he could even open his mouth.

“It would not surprise me if were glad they were destroyed,” said Ellana. Solas thrust an arm out for balance as he erected a barrier around himself, and Ellana began to stalk forward, slinking like a predator towards the serious elf while he backed away in return. “In fact, I’m sure that you are. One less _infant_ clan to get the stories wrong, yes?”

“Inquisitor, stop it.”

“Ma banal las halamshir var vhen! _Din elvhen emma him?”_

“Venavis! You are forcing my hand in this, Inquisitor. I do not want to hurt you!”

Ellana laughed coldly, the sound creating chills on the back of Solas’ neck. “Don’t worry,” she said, coming to a menacing halt, her palms igniting in magical light once more. “You can’t.”

She lurched forward; long veins of lightning sparked from her outstretched palms. They cackled with dangerous electricity, and Solas grunted as he leaped out of the way of the purple magic. He dove to the side, hitting the ground with his shoulders before rolling so that he landed on his feet, though he ducked instinctively as the sound of crackling flame filled the study. His mouth was tight with a grimace as a fireball sailed harmlessly behind him, each hot tendril of the sphere tickling the outermost edges of his barrier. Ellana had missed, disintegrating the wooden scaffold Solas used to paint into messy piles of timber that cluttered the stone floor. The explosion was a cacophony of sound that stunned the both of them, knocking them to the ground and stinging their bodies into submission and stillness. Ellana and Solas blinked dazedly for a moment as the shouts outside the room’s door silenced at once. Were they alone again?

The two elves scrambled to their feet, soot and dust covering their skin. Solas was ready by the time Ellana recovered, his hands defensive, his eyes hard and focused. The Inquisitor flexed her wrists, drawing mana out from the veins there before whirling around and attacking once more with a cry of rage that surged out between her jaws. Barrages of multi-colored energy dissolved on his protected flesh and he bounded forward, putting a significant step between their already short distance. Ignoring the stabs of pain her magic caused him, Solas stared at Ellana, shocked to find a savagery in her violet eyes that almost made them seem… _scarlet._

Their duel continued much like a practiced routine of a dancer, all graceful positions and fluid movements that flowed from one to the next without hesitation or disruption. Showers of ice and fire met in the air with thunderous reverberations, forcing them both to stumble backwards. Debris of ice and wood and paint flew in every direction, splattering everything an ominous shade of grey. Ellana ignored the paint flecked on her face and yelled in frustration, wondering when this would all end. It was if Solas knew every move she was about to make! That shouldn’t have been surprising however - how long had they spent fighting side-by-side in battle? They were undoubtedly matched in every respect. She cast, and Solas countered, or avoided it. It was a battle of push and shove with no one emerging as a clear victor. After a few more moments of endless rage, Ellana realized that there was only one way to end this. A definite outcome that she could control for certain.

Ellana inhaled deeply, reveling in the bitter scent of the paint that covered her face as she directed the rest of her mana towards her left hand. The Anchor on her palm started to glow, a faint but eerie green filling the room with its unworldly presence. It was only a matter of time before she had gathered enough power to release it; as she cast a spare barrier for protection, Ellana kept her eyes trained on Solas, narrowed and calculating while he prepared for his next move.

The green of her magic stopped him cold, however. “Is that…?” he suddenly asked horror struck. Solas’ eyes filled with fear as a calm determination possessed the Inquisitor’s face, smoothing out the lines of anger scribbled onto its surface. Was she… _smiling?_ “Ellana, no! Stop!” he shouted. “Venavis! _Venavis!”_

She looked at him once… and was empty.

“Solas!”

This was a different voice. Solas turned in its direction, watching as someone bounded out of the library’s staircase and into the study, their long robes sailing behind them like the dark blue mast of a bronze and handsome ship.

“Dorian?”

The Tevinter mage darted in the room and paled at the sight of the room’s carnage, wood and paint and paper and metal strewn everywhere. His eyes took it all in before finding Ellana, a slight figure towards the eastern wall, her arms and shoulders bowed into herself. She now had her eyes closed in concentration and gripped her left wrist with her hand which visibly quaked with uncontrolled energy that was about to detonate.

“What is she doing?” asked Dorian, his eyes and voice filled with worry. “Is the castle under attack?”

Solas curtly shook his head, tension stiffening every line of his body into a rigid posture. “She is about to open the Fade once more, like Adamant! Please, you must help me!”

“What!?”

“I’ve tried reasoning with her, but in this state…” he trailed off, mouth dry and taut, “I am afraid she is too far gone.”

“Solas, what in Andraste’s name _happened?”_

The two shared an anxious glance, and Solas bristled uncomfortably, his jaw twitching with tangible aggravation. “News from Wycome arrived. It seems that Clan Lavellan was entirely murdered by the humans rioting in the city. No one survived the battle.” A soft cry emanated from Dorian’s throat, but Solas continued on, each word like ash in the back of his throat. “As you can see, she is… grieving.”

Dorian turned towards Ellana with anguish in his large eyes. She was still and motionless, concentrating all of her energy into the Anchor that now flared a frightening shade of emerald. Her paint-speckled eyelids fluttered restlessly, and her lips which were usually so red with color, were now grey and wax-like. The Anchor’s glow oscillated hazardously, like a deadly alert, and Dorian stepped towards the Inquisitor, anxiety contorting his features into a screwed up mask of emotion.

“Well, stop her then!” the Tevinter exclaimed. “Don’t just stand around and wait for her to kill you!”

Solas scoffed loudly, both slender eyebrows narrowing vehemently upon his face. “I don’t know if you’ve _met_ her, Dorian, but the Inquisitor is a formidable adversary. I cannot get close enough to restrain her! At least, not without getting seriously injured.”

The Anchor’s green light turned a sickly shade upon their skin skin. While Solas continued to search for an opening that would allow him further access to the Inquisitor’s front, Dorian swallowed slowly and nodded to himself, the waves in his hair ruffling slightly.

“No one is getting injured,” he said sternly, almost darkly, “I can do it.”

Solas offered no response to this. He watched warily as Dorian began striding towards Ellana, both hands outstretched and raised in a seemingly peaceful gesture. He had half the distance of the room to travel across, yet the Inquisitor payed him no attention until he came within a yard of her body. Solas felt himself freeze as her maddened eyes shot open to glare at her Tevinter friend. Her eyes…

So vacant.

Dorian stilled himself. “Ellana,” he crooned in a soft tone, “It’s just me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Ellana snarled viciously, her lips curled at the corners in blatant contempt. She looked trapped with the way her eyes darted left and right, quick and afraid and unsure. “Go away,” she snapped at him. “I don’t want you here.”

Dorian stepped closer to where she stood. “I’m not going anywhere, Ellana. _I_ never will.”

This caused Ellana to freeze. Faint echoes of misery ignited her eyes, giving them a ghostly and haunted look, though they were gone before the pain could find any sort of purchase within them. She drained of what little color remained in her body and eyed the approaching Dorian with cautious defiance on her features. He stopped only when a thin space existed between them and looked down at her grieved face, feeling his own features twist to mirror her torment.

“Dorian, I’m warning you. Leave before I hurt you too,” she said bitterly, flexing the powerful Anchor in her fingertips. She felt its power throb soundly inside her body.

Dorian shrugged, a challenging gesture that Ellana glared at. “If you’re going to hurt me then hurt me. But it won’t make you feel better and it won’t bring your clan back.”

From the back of the room, Solas could see these words visibly pierce Ellana. She sagged marginally, cringing inward as each syllable slashed through her rage and cut her soul. A hitched breath stuck in her throat as the fire suddenly returned to her blood. Ellana raised her glowing hand to strike at Dorian, to slap the confident tenacity off his face, but he seized her wrist in mid-air and yanked her to him with a savage jerk that left her whiplashed. His familiar cologne assaulted her nostrils as their chests collided together with compact sound. She hated this, hated how he held her, hated how protective his body felt against hers, how his arms wound about her torso in a loving embrace. It was too much to endure and too much to feel and too much to bear; it was _beyond painful._ It was torture. 

Ellana pounded and struggled against his chest and screamed into his collar bone, shouting curses of every color and language she could think of. Dorian would not let go, however, no matter how much she writhed away from his comforting hold on her.

“They’re dead,” Dorian slowly pronounced while she gasped for needed air, “Your family is dead and they’re never coming back, Ellana. You need to understand this. You need to let the pain in so that you can feel it. Do you hear me? You’re not feeling anything right now! Let this in! Let _me_ in!”

“No!” she cried, her voice cracking in hoarseness. Ellana thrashed and pushed her knuckles deep into Dorian’s gut. “No, I can’t! I won’t!”

His stomach tightened reflexively underneath his friend’s assault. Dorian grimaced at the discomfort but held her even tighter, despite his arms aching from the sheer effort of keeping her in place. Colorless hair whipped at the faint stubble on his jaw as she thrashed, and he bent lower still, shifting a forearm to come across the back of her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry, Ellana, but you need to feel all of this,” he said in a voice thick with emotion. It was more than heartbreaking to see the Inquisitor like this. Dorian wished for nothing but to forget the sound of his friend crying out in hollow loss; he knew her screams would haunt him from this day on. In response, Dorian pressed her close to his heart and even closer still when her knotted fingers pulled him in instead of away, their tips ghosting to white in their fevered grip. Ellana felt herself shatter into a thousand pieces at his fearless touch and then it was all over; the fire was gone forever and she could feel every trace of it vanishing into the air above her in smoky tendrils. Tears poured from her eyes as her knees buckled, but Dorian was there to steady her; his arms were the only thing keeping her upright as she sobbed into the fine cloth of his blue, Tevinter robes.

“They’re gone,” she choked into his breast, causing the words to become muffled and faint, “Oh Maker, they’re really gone and I’m alone, aren’t I? Why does this keep happening to me, Dorian?” Her body convulsed from the shredded breaths she inhaled, and all that remained of her world was her and Dorian’s warm chest and the salty tears on her lips. Bone-deep agony shot through every inch of her being and still she did not disintegrate; surely Dorian was the only thing keeping her from fading away for real this time.

He did not flinch away as Ellana buried her face into the crevice of his neck. Instead, he raised a hand to cup the back of her head, feeling his skin meet the sticky, soft strands of her paint-scabbed hair. “No one said this was going to be easy, darling. But this is not your fault!”

“Of course it’s my fault,” Ellana moaned pitifully, her sobs hiccuping each word into ragged fragments barley coherent enough to understand. “The Divine was my fault because she died saving me. Saving me! And if it hadn’t been for the Inquisition’s involvement, my clan would still be alive! My friends, my family… they would… they’d…”

Dorian clicked his tongue disapprovingly at her, if not unkindly. “You don’t know that. You _do not_ know that, Ellana. I don’t think there was anything you could have done to save them, to be truthful. And yes, perhaps you will have to live with that for the rest of your life. But you have another family all around you that will want to help, dear girl. Don’t you see? There isn’t anything we would refuse of you; there isn’t any obstacle we wouldn’t overcome with fire, Bull’s obnoxious horns, and Sera’s silly, little arrows leading the way,” he said dryly, feeling Ellana inhale slowly against him, and failing. She coughed violently, nearly choking on the tattered fragment of air inside her throat. Dorian grimaced in sympathy and squeezed her even tighter, crushing his cheek against one of her filthy temples. “I know it’s not the same as having your clan with you, but I do hope that in time you will see how much we care for you, and that it helps. I don’t know if it will… but I hope,” he said quietly, for only her to hear.

Ellana said nothing but moaned pitifully, her body too racked with spasms to comply with her mouth. They stood in patient silence for a long while it seemed, unable to do much more than comfort each other with gentle fingers and words. The voices behind the study’s melted door did not rise up again; only the absence of the evening’s rain and the sound of Ellana’s quiet weeping was audible amidst their incinerated surroundings.

Eventually, when a stiffness came over their bones, Dorian stirred the elven woman in his arms, tenderly prying their bodies apart with his hands. Her face was a messed as she looked up at him in wonder; a mixture of blood, old sweat, and paint covered her face like a film of agony. The scarlet hue in her eyes was long gone, and her long eyelashes fluttered slowly as Dorian moved his thumbs to brush across her dirty cheekbones. “What do you want to do now?” he asked her, his voice like a moment’s peace in a storm of death and grief. “I dare say we should get you to your room before Cullen’s soldiers burst in here, prepared to lay siege, yes?”

Ellana sniffled, wiping a pale hand roughly across her nose and forehead. “Yes. I need… to get out of here. What will you do, though? Will you tell Cassandra what happened here tonight?” Her voice broke thinly at the mention of the Seeker. “She would want to know what has happened to this room. No doubt she is already on her way here to investigate, after all of the commotion. I must have been… very loud.”

A grimace shadowed Dorian’s sympathetic expression, and for a moment, he looked away, averting her eyes towards the wreckage around them. “Unfortunately… yes. If the surge of mana hadn’t alerted me to what was happening then the cacophony surely would have. All the more reason to get you somewhere quiet where you’ll be safe from prying eyes and questions. We should head for your quarters at once.”

A bud of hope sprouted in the Inquisitor’s chest, driving away any sort of breath she had been able to hold on to. “You mean… you’re staying with me?” she asked, sounding too desperate, more tears spilling down her face. Some leader _she_ was turning out to be.

“What did I say before? I am not leaving you,” Dorian said sternly, brown eyes blazing in the room’s torchlight. There was an final iron in his expression, a strength that somehow flowed from his countenance into her joints, perhaps through the soft strokes his fingers created upon her face. Ellana soon felt herself relaxing under his hands, though this did nothing to assuage the splintered organ that was her heart. She swallowed hard, a crease of worry appearing in the middle of her brows as she searched the study, finding nothing.

“But, Solas… I… I tried to… I should… where did he go?”

Dorian momentarily turned his head to motion him over, but Solas was nowhere to be found. The study was empty save for the immense piles of smashed debris surrounding the two of them as they tentatively clutched on to one another. Solas didn’t seem to be anywhere nearby, and Dorian scowled at his ill-timed absence. Where could he have gone at a time like this? Was he behind the eerie silence? Had he gone to the Great Hall and assauged everyone to leave them be? Whatever the case, Dorian almost growled. It was just like him to disappear when she needed him the most; damn him!

“Let’s go, Ellana,” was all Dorian could manage as he struggled to reign in his own temper, “Now is not the time for apologies. For now, let’s just… go. All right?”

Ellana blinked tiredly and nodded, leaning against the tall mage for support as they started to make their way up the library staircase he had used to get to her. They would go the long way in an attempt to avoid as many people as they could, and as they walked, Dorian said nothing, merely offering his strength and body as a crutch for the lithe Inquisitor. He pressed a quick kiss to her hair, knowing that he would tear down anyone who dared confront her in such a tender time as this.

_You’re staying with me?_

Her fragile tone from that moment rattled his mind as they walked in the shadows of Skyhold’s castle. How could that question have formed in her head? Did she not understand?

 _Always,_ Dorian thought to himself, the single word like dragon-bone in his soul, cemented and solid. 

_Always._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana flees into the Fade, abandoning the Inquisition for three days while she is overcome about her grief. Solas finds her and they share a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon that Solas is a Dreamer and therefore able to bring some real geography to the Fade, holla.

The Fade, as usual, was slightly green and muted, each particle of its make-up tinged a pale emerald. Its air was slightly thicker than normal and the clouds were bigger too - massive, endless things that constantly floated in the sky like planets. Ellana gazed up at them in wonder, a blank and exhausted expression lingering on her tear-stained face. A light breeze tickled silver strands of hair around each ear and she breathed in the scent of forests and agriculture eagerly. It had been a long time since she had been able to collect her thoughts in the presence of so much greenery. The wood tree she sat against wasn’t comfortable but it wasn’t painful either; for now, Ellana was grateful to just be and watch the non-day drift by in silence. This wouldn't last forever, after all.

How long she had been in the Fade, she didn’t know. Dorian had held her for hours in her bed at Skyhold, humming lullabies to her until she was too exhausted to cry anymore or even blink. The Fade had welcomed here while there were still hot tears on her cheeks, and since then, Ellana hadn’t been back to the material world. She would return eventually, but what was waiting for her there apart from grief and heartache? At least in the Fade, her soul felt subdued enough so that she could breathe with relative ease, could think without dwelling in the images of her clan dying all around her. Maybe it was the green in its atmosphere feeding her strength, or perhaps it was just the escape of reality that sustained her will to stay a little while longer.

Ellana had seen no sign of anyone coming to look for her. Well, not really. At one point, she thought she might have been able to hear Solas calling out for her near the outskirts of Val Royeaux, where she wandered aimlessly, allowing the dazzling landscape to warm her insides before turning somewhere else. The alert tenor of his voice caused her to flee to the Dales, however, where her clan had inhabited much of the land throughout the years. The deep greens and browns of the forest had cloaked her like an old friend, and now, she sat amidst a clearing of oak and grass, with yellow dandelions poking through the soft clumps of turf. It was only a matter of time until someone, that someone most likely being Solas, stumbled upon her, for it was common knowledge to the Inquisition that she lived in the Dales for most of her early life; it was now only a matter of if anyone would remember this information.

Eventually, minutes - perhaps even hours later, this assumption proved to be right. When the sound of muffled footsteps finally did approach her, Ellana was almost glad for them. The Fade was a useful escape but it was… quiet. Deafeningly so. And there was only so much time alone Ellana felt she could handle before her soul started to fade away again… The silver-haired elf turned her head to the side and saw Solas enter the clearing with a cautious gait, the grey flecks in his eyes contemplative and deep. Both of his hands were folded behind him so he only nodded to her in greeting, pausing naturally a few yards away from her while she remained on the woods’ floor. 

“Hello, Inquisitor,” he said politely, and his voice was like a knife slashing through the most vulnerable parts of her. “May I join you?”

Ellana sighed, feeling a warm blush race to meet the guilt that spiraled down throughout her body. The mere sight of him shamed her and fractured her feeble will. Could he tell? She proceeded to beckon him closer, using a pale hand to pat the space beside her on the ground. Smiling cordially, Solas smiled sank into the spot she indicated at once, his green leggings blending in nicely with forest’ grass.

“How did you find me?” Ellana asked, pushing back the tide of curls that was her hair. She swept all of it over a shoulder and began to braid their ends, using the action as a buffer in her feelings of deep remorse so that she wouldn't have to look at him in the face. Solas hummed tiredly, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the gnarled skin of the trunk they sat against.

“I have not been searching too long. I went to Val Royeaux first, remembering how the tall buildings first fascinated you on our visit to meet with the chantry clerics. I suppose it was an instinctive reaction,” he said freely, resting his hands atop his upright knees. “Actually, I _did_ find you there, by accident no less, as you fled from the echoes of my calls. When I saw you running away, I realized you were not yet ready to talk.” Solas pretended not to notice how Ellana’s face turned cherry red as he continued. 

“That was… understandable. Truly. I wanted to give you space but I didn’t know how much longer I should have left you alone. I only came to the Dales guessing that this is where you would turn to, but only after much hesitation on my part, for I did not want to be intrusive,” he said kindly, his voice turning more quiet as he spoke. “As for how I found you then… well, I encountered a few wisps along my search and they kindly directed me towards your location, to this clearing. The entire process only took me about an hour,” he finished before murmuring lowly, “I was… worried for you.”

Ellana smiled sadly at the air, not caring to show him how easily his words affected her. She let her hands fall from her hair, causing the messy braid to become undone and even curlier than before so that it sprung neatly back into place on her breastbone, like crumpled up waves of silver ocean. She swallowed down a stream of thick emotion, hating the ache in her throat as he looked at her. “I don’t deserve your worry, Solas. I tried to kill you.”

“Yes, you did,” Solas said with a light laugh, and then Ellana could not help but turn her head to stare at the chuckling elf. How different he seemed in the Fade… how carefree and joyful he was. Solas met her scrutiny with a quick shift of his eyes, and the laugh died quickly upon his lips, fading away like a brilliant sunset over the horizon of the Waking Sea.

“I do not blame you Inquisitor,” he said seriously, his face grave and set, “If you are at all concerned about my anger, please do not be. I feel no bitterness towards you, only a genuine inclination to help you in whatever way possible. But if you are still upset with me… well, then, I suppose that changes the matter.”

A frown passed between them, sticking to Ellana’s face with more severity than it did Solas’. “I wish you could forget what happened, lethallin. I wish I never had lost control as much as I did. I can’t _believe_ what I tried to do; I don’t understand how I could have —“

Solas placed a hand on one of her folded knees, freezing her in place and effectively silencing the Inquisitor. “If you wish me to forget, then I will do my best to do so. You must understand however, that I cannot forget with your constant apologies regarding the situation. Losing one’s family is a great ordeal. I would sooner remember the pain of its loss than I would the irrefutable rage it sparks in one’s soul. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I just… think it’s better than what I deserve is all.”

“We must all try to overcome the shadows within ourselves,” he said while gently removing his hand from her body before dropping it back onto his knees, “I am not so unsympathetic as to brand you a monster for your grief. You would do well to remember that, yourself.” 

“You are so bossy,” she teased pitifully.

Solas grinned and wordlessly sprung to his feet, the movement lithe and graceful and even a little magical. _He_ was magical here, and when he extended a hand to help her up also, Ellana took it numbly, feeling the rough skin of their palms rubbing together as he gently yanked her off the ground. She could feel him staring at her with calm intensity as he pulled his hand away once more, leaving her slightly colder than she had been just a moment ago. 

“How long have I been in the Fade, Solas? Do you know?” Ellana asked, slightly ashamed of the wet moisture brewing in her eyes. She could not help the fresh tears that spilled over the rise of her slanted cheekbones, nor did she want to. It was as if every movement and every word jilted her, shook her, even cracked her. The tears dripped past her jawbone and watered the first ground as she exhaled deeply, a shaky vibrato dicing the sound into perceptible parts. “I can’t even remember how long I’ve been here.”

Solas shook his head, a slight knot forming in between his eyebrows as he concentrated on her question. “By now? Precisely… three days, I think. Time is always harder to judge time in this realm, but I feel that is an accurate estimation on my part.”

Ellana cringed inwardly, her eyes closing in silent horror. _Three days._ The light breeze continued to dance along the clearing in a soothing tempo, ruffling the tall oak’s leaves in a playful manner that was almost a mockery of how the world shattered beneath her feet. It dried the new wetness on Ellana’s cheeks and she hugged herself tightly around her chest, determined to keep herself from splintering even further apart. “How bad is it out there? Does the Inquisition think a demon has taken over my body and laid waste to my spirit here? Should I expect to find Cullen in his templar armor standing over my bedside when I wake?” 

Wait. No. The mere idea was too horrible to entertain. With a surge of will, Ellana shrugged off her dark thoughts and forced herself to remain calm. The Inquisition, and she, was stronger than that. Better than that.

Right?

Solas came to stand by the Inquisitor once more, using careful paces to approach her side, each eye glinting with renewed concern. “For the most part,” he said, drawing the attention of Ellana’s violet gaze, “The Inquisition is behaving rather normally. Cassandra is perhaps the most worried about your condition. She wonders if you have run off forever in search of your clan, therefore abandoning the Inquisition to its fate.”

They calmly stood together, observing the massive clouds that decorated the vivid horizon, “I do not think she truly believes that you have, however,” Solas continued on, “I suspect she is just making noise to… well, make noise. She cares a great deal for you. My guess is that your prolonged absence has rattled her in ways she did not know could be upset.”

Another wave of guilt washed over the Inquisitor, tugging at her heartstrings like the remains of a jagged lute. “That doesn’t surprise me in the least,” she whispered. “What about Dorian?”

Solas smiled carefully, gesturing with an outstretched hand for her to walk with him. Ellana paused, looking up at the careful elf with suspicious eyes. Where did he want to go? Did he even know how to navigate the trails in this land? 

… Did it even matter at this point?

After a moment of instinctual hesitation, Ellana acquiesced, a long breath expelling from her lungs as she willed her feet to move forward past the clearing and towards the vast and distant chain of mountains Solas seemed to gravitate towards.

“Dorian,” Solas resumed, “Refuses to leave your side for even more than a moment. He reads his favorite books to you when no one else can see him. I have heard recite fanciful tales of magic and fantasy and romantic quests from your bedside with the hopes of soothing your spirit, absent as it is. Sometimes, he’ll just talk for hours on end, telling you how much he misses you. I suspect that he hopes the sound of his voice will bring you back to him, actually.”

Teardrops once more blurred Ellana’s vision, and she swallowed down a sob, not really feeling the ferns they trampled on cushion each footstep from the woods’ underbrush. “How do you know this?” she asked unhappily. Solas frowned at the sound of her agonized voice and gently took her hand by the palm, squeezing their fingers together. She squeezed them back, neither of them glancing in the other’s direction. 

“I could hear him outside your door,” he explained rationally, stroking her knuckles with his slender thumb. “I went to visit, to see if you had yet returned from the Fade when I heard someone talking... speaking to your body more like. His voice was rhythmic, as if he was chanting or praying. Naturally I was content to wait until he had finished before entering your quarters; I did not wish to intrude upon such a private moment so I was resolved to wait until he had finished, but he never did. That was when I realized he was not praying but reading, which accounted for the musical cadence of his words. He was considerably easy to listen to… the exercise was soothing even to me, though I listened for only a few moments further before leaving altogether. It seemed as if the exercise grounded him as much as he hoped it would help you. I could not bring myself to disrupt him, even for an instant. So, I resolved to find you in the Fade, and here we are,” he mused humorously to himself, the edges of his mouth twisting up into a private smirk. 

As he spoke, Ellana knew Solas was right. Dorian wouldn't give up on her, no matter how long he had to remain by her side… just as she would stay with him. It was easy to picture the Tevinter huddled up by her bedside, perhaps in a chair of some sort, relentlessly protecting her body from curious visitors and unwanted attention. As she mulled on these thoughts, the Dales expanded endlessly on either side of them as they trekked its inner forestry. For a few moments, Ellana was content to be silent. She could feel pain coil up in her soul like the heavy pearls Cole sees in the hurt and the wounded, but even they failed to break her in the day’s misty glory. Despite the hurt, she remained whole and unbeaten by her grief. If Solas knew what she was thinking, he would have told her to be proud of such a feat. Perhaps Dorian would have even agreed with him.

Dampened sunshine grasped a hold of Ellana’s body, heating her pale skin and stemming the tide of grief just enough so that she could marvel at the height of the elder trees all around her, sticky sap oozing down their giant limbs. Solas’ hand felt good in hers and she unconsciously shifted their fingers so that they slipped together like puzzle pieces, all long and slender knuckles joining in one perfect display of unity. Her next breath came easier than the last.

“How weak will I be when I return to my body, anyway? I’ve never been gone this long before,” Ellana said curiously. “Will I be close to death?” _What a stupid and pointless death that would be..._

She’s never had reason _to_ be gone this long before. Solas, who greedily breathed in the fragrant wind, hummed for a moment. “You will probably be faint from lack of food and water, but I doubt you are in any real danger of perishing,” he said absently, still reveling in the feel of the forest, “Dorian has been casting protective wards and spells on your body while you sleep so that you will not become exceedingly malnourished. Nevertheless, I would not recommend staying here any longer than you have.” 

When Ellana raised an inquiring eyebrow at this, Solas paused, seemingly struggling to find adequate words for the situation. After a moment, however, he gave up, his shoulders tensing slightly with irritation. “Don’t you see, Inquisitor? Every moment you stay in the Fade will be another your friends will have to endure your absence. You are their _heart,_ just as the Divine was the heart of all the South, and missing you is not an simple or easy thing to experience for many of the Inquisition. I dare say it is my hope that you would soon alleviate their pain, however selfish that may seem of me.”

“Their pain? Or yours, Solas?”

Solas never answered her question, bothering with only a smile faintly in response. Ellana smiled easily in return; she figured as much. The two elves eventually came upon a fork in the wide trail they scoured, each avenue identical and littered with glorious trees and ferns alike, creating green blankets of agriculture both above and below them, like a swaddle of nature and life.

Ellana never stopped in her gait, slowing down only to pull Solas towards the right. She did this so reflexively that his eyes widened with confusion, though after an encouraging smile on her part, Solas surrendered to her lead with passive, careful footsteps. Proud weeds dotted the sides of the path like beacons of jade that observed their passing with stoic acceptance, serving as perhaps even a grand carpet of emerald to usher them further into their skeleton. If Ellana was ever a queen, then this was her kingdom, and the wildlife, her subjects. The environment was extremely inviting; it was all too easy to pretend that she held the hand of one of her clan relatives as they forged their way through the thin canopy the trees made above them. Solas did not protest when the thought of such an idea caused her to crush their hands together in an uncomfortable manner. He spared another glance in her direction, wondering which thought was tormenting her again, all the while remaining silent and respectful of her sorrow. 

After several more minutes of wandering, the canopy gave way to a sky full of pale light, and they stepped into a small meadow surrounded by the peaks of the towering Frostback Mountains, so close to them that they looked like continents of rock floating in the horizon beyond. Snow capped their massive sides, and Solas gasped uncharacteristically as Ellana led him further into the pasture full of not only dandelions, but also wildflowers of every shape and color and size. The landscape was a flawless collection of the brightest hues the Fade had to offer, each stone, leaf, and tree shot through with a vibrant complexion that revealed their inner vitality that seemed much too electric for the dream-realm.

“You knew this was here?” he wondered aloud, his grey eyes blazing and darting around with excitement. He was unaware of Ellana staring up at him, joy and a vague satisfaction passing over her features at his reaction.

Ellana nodded, still transfixed by the rawness of his shock. “I found this place by accident one day when running away from my Keeper as a young girl,” she said distantly, her own voice sounding small and child-like in her ears, “A few humans trekking across the forest stumbled onto our camp, and I knew from past experiences that because of their discovery, we were going to leave the area. Keeper Deshanna tried explaining to me that it would mean our safety, our survival... but I had no desire to forsake the place I called home. She tried comforting me as a mother would, but I quickly fled from her embrace and ended up here somehow, lost and fumbling amidst my own stupidity. She always did say I was too stubborn for my own good.”

Solas, wide-eyed and calculating, nodded ardently, his lips slightly parted in prolonged awe. Ellana watched him drink in every detail he could, from the twisted, spiky branches of the trees to the malachite blades of the ground’s long grass, even to the spongy texture of the dirt beneath their feet. “It’s beautiful,” he breathed dreamily, eyeing the natural space with something that curiously looked like more than admiration - perhaps it was longing? “Thank you for bringing me here, Inquisitor.”

“Thank you for coming to find me,” she said, but her tone was all wrong.

Solas turned abruptly, alarm clouding his eyes as he spun to face Ellana. She was crying again, her gaze turned deliberately downcast as her body quaked with silent misery. The Fade’s sunlight caused her teardrops to glitter on her flesh like tiny rainbows, each one a depthless ocean of loss he knew had to be shed. Solas cupped her wet chin in his free hand, gently forcing her to look at him with those inextinguishable violet eyes he knew so well. 

“I am so sorry for you, Ellana,” he said kindly, the alarm in his gaze melting to concern, “This must be difficult for you to be here.”

Her long, dark eyelashes lowered slightly while she sucked in a slow breath. “I needed to say goodbye to this place. Val Royeaux was just a detour... I was _always_ going to come here. I suppose it just took me awhile to muster up the strength,” she admitted before regarding the sharp planes of Solas’ cheekbones once more, “I’m glad that you’re here with me, Solas, because… I need to say goodbye to you as well.”

Shallow lines of tension surrounded his eyes as Solas stared back at Ellana with perplexity. He let his hand fall from her chin, as if personally stung by such a declaration. “I don’t understand. What do you mean, ‘you need to say goodbye to me as well?’”

For one boundless moment, Ellana said nothing, too enraptured in her own thoughts to answer him. It was a unique form of torture that stretched the nerves to unbearable lengths, and yet Solas obliged her delay with careful courtesy, masking his fierce desire to know her secrets by bending down and plucking a pale pink wildflower from its stem on the ground. One of their hands still remained linked while he did this, and Solas caressed the four-petal blossom with his opposite palm, wondering what thought of the Inquisitor’s could possibly be so difficult to divulge. 

“I love Cullen,” she eventually said, sorrow skewering her voice into regretful shreds, “Sometimes I wish I didn’t, but I do. I love him, a human, and I… want to be with him.”

A beat passed, tense and nervous, and then Solas smiled resignedly, a genuine… if confusing, response. His eyes warmed considerably as he gazed down at her, his jawline slack and relaxed with certainty. “I know, Ellana. I know you love Cullen.”

Ellana sighed sharply, his response like a blow to her lungs. “How long?” she asked, traitor tears filming over her vision. She angrily wiped them away.

“For some time now,” Solas admitted. He tenderly placed the flower in Ellana’s hair, along the crook between her ear and temple, before prudently retracting his fingers away. “When you look at Cullen, it’s like your face becomes different. It changes into something new and rapturous, something more beautiful than I have ever seen before, as if a tangible light from within just.... radiates through your being. In fact, I believe it is similar to the way you look at Dorian.”

“It is?”

Solas smiled sadly, revealing equal amounts of joy and suffering in the gesture. “Yes. I wish you had not been so afraid to tell me of this, da’len. Did you think I would be angry with you?”

Ellana and Solas stared at each other, one hand still entwined at their waists. “I thought you would be sad,” she said simply, “Because you love me… because you know I love you, too.” They proceeded to exchange remorseful expressions, somehow more connected in these moments than they ever have been before. Was it honesty that united two people together, or the futile knowledge that whatever is said cannot change things and therefore is safe to say?

A breeze tugged apart Ellana’s hair, skewering it into a messy halo of silver around her face. “I am sad,” Solas murmured, a darkness passing over his features, “As early as it was in the relationship, losing you was a sorrow I could never describe with words. I just do not think it was unreasonable or foolish of you to end it when you did. I have no protest to make about your choices. After all, I _am_ the one who encouraged you to reconsider your decision to be with me, remember? My only regret in all of this is your pain.” He averted his gaze over her head then, away from her eyes and towards the height of the towering Frostbacks in the distance. “I would break my own heart a thousand times if it meant sparing you, in the end.”

“Solas, I --”

He shook his head once, silencing her, before reluctantly meeting her eyes again. “I know, Ellana. You don’t have to say it. Just... now with your clan, well, it seems almost too much. Too cruel to you.”

A hiccup racked Ellana’s throat, and she shrugged in nonchalant agreement with him. “Honestly, Solas? It feels like too much. I’m not sure I understand why all of this had to happen at once.”

Or frankly, why it had to happen at all.

Despite the mood, the Fade’s sun felt warmer in this meadow, unclustered and open as it was. Ellana touched the flower in her hair with tentative fingers, and her expression was too innocent and heartbreaking; Solas could feel a part of himself wither away at the sight of her trying so deliberately to remain strong. 

“Does Cullen know of your affection?” he asked curiously, if only to distract her from her own mind and the dangerous thoughts sure to be lurking in silence there, “Have you told him yet?”

Ellana shook her head, a frail blush coloring the pale space of her cheeks. “No. I haven’t been ready. I wanted to talk to you first; I wanted you to... understand how I felt before I moved forward with someone else. Just in case there was any confusion, I suppose.”

“Such thoughtfulness,” Solas said, a bittersweet grin both pleased and dark twisting his mouth downwards. “You are entirely too considerate of me, Ellana. I hope you did not feel obligated to wait for my blessing!”

His bravado relaxed her enough so that she smiled, despite the newfound wetness in her eyes. “It wasn’t that. I just wanted to do things… properly. I wanted closure. I wanted… no, that still isn’t right. I _want_ the goodbye with you that I will never have with my clan.” Ellana exhaled sharply, cringing away from her own words and the physical pain they brought her. “Solas, the reality of the situation is that in all the time we’ve known each other, I don’t think we have ever had a conversation as honest as this one. Don’t you feel like that is something long over-do for us? I’m not suggesting that we need to reveal all of our secrets to one another. I’m not asking for you to bear your soul to me, Solas. All I’m asking is for is a little sincerity… a last chance to end things the _right_ way so that we both can move on. Is that too demanding of me? Would you refuse this?”

Her questions hung between them like heavy rain as they scrutinized each other with a simple understanding that threaded them together in ways they knew no one would ever be able to understand, human or elvhen. Ellana could tell that he was unsure; a thin veil of deliberation clouded the intensity of his gaze, shielding his true thoughts from her probing stare. It was only when she allowed a smile of assurance to touch her lips that Solas caved. The truthfulness of her confident expression was undeniable, and he soon found himself accepting, even _desiring_ to fulfill her requests. When he respectfully inclined his head, his face was full with ancient misery as it was acceptance, his features no longer masked by the aloofness he so preferred.

“I would not so readily deprive you of what is rightfully yours, Ellana. However, you should know that there are some things I just can’t... well, to put it quite simply, you deserve much more than what I can offer,” he said seriously, his hand still warm and safe in hers. “With that said, I will do my absolute best to give you what you need. No. What you rightfully deserve. What would you have me do, da’len?”

The earnesty in his voice was overwhelming. It heated the grey in his eyes until they were completely liquified, resembling swirling pools of steel rather than actual, physical irises. Ellana swallowed carefully and tugged her hand out of Solas’ grip before placing it on his chest, her palm connecting intimately with the beige fabric of his favorite sweater. Solas gazed down at her in bewilderment but allowed the contact, remaining silent even when she pressed down on his sternum, her delicate fingers greeting the natural warmth he emanated.

“I need you to listen for awhile,” she said while looking up at him, and the sudden pressure of her hand on his chest was like an anvil bearing down on his lungs. Solas breathed painfully and nodded, not trusting his mouth to say anymore than it already had, and not convinced that he even wanted to hear what she was about to say. For a few instances, the wind was the only thing moving around in the scenic space, the only invincible entity here, incapable of being defeated by love or heartbreak or loss. As he waited for her to speak, Solas could feel his heart racing underneath Ellana’s steady hand, and she seemed to sense this as well for it was only when he thought it might give out did she smiled knowingly at him, rawness and honesty in her face.

“How is it that your words can be so cruel when your heart beats so beautifully?” she wondered aloud while staring at her fingers splayed out on his muscled chest. “For a long time, Solas - a really long time, I didn't understand why you pushed me away. Knowing that you felt the same as I did… well it didn’t make any sense to me. I felt inadequate, like I wasn’t enough, like I couldn’t be enough or what you needed to get you to trust me. I know you have your secrets - I even know you have real reasons for keeping them from me, but I thought that if you loved someone, you’d want to tell them everything so you could be closer to them… so it would feel better on the _inside_ too.” 

When she looked up at Solas again it was like he was burning him alive with her words, the pain was so visible on his face. Did he realize? Ellana didn't think she had ever seen him look this way before, so exposed and vulnerable and open. She glided her hand up, feeling the lines of tension that was his neck and jaw harden into stone as she touched him. Finally her hand came to a stop at his cheek, and the suffering in Solas’ eyes rose to a crescendo, betraying him more utterly than his words and secrets ever could, a wordless scream of agony resonating deep within their opal embers. 

“I was furious at you for never confiding in me because I knew that I would not personally choose to be with someone who would not tell me the whole truth about who they were.” Ellana said this carefully, speaking each word with the proper enunciation, but her voice broke on the next few sentences and Solas shuddered underneath her hand, his rawness interpreting her sudden pain as his own. “You are the midnight moon upon the ocean, Solas,” she whispered, crying tears that dissolved into the collar of her dark tunic,” You are bright and magnificent and breathtakingly inviting… but you are too vast for me. I cannot touch you. I cannot feel you. My love for you is not a boat that I can sail into the horizon. I am no conductor of the sea, and that is the worst part of all. I would have drowned in your depths and you would have been unable to stop yourself from letting me.” 

Ellana paused, suppressing the intense despair now stabbing at her insides. She searched Solas’ eyes for some sign that she was wrong, that she had miscalculated their circumstances, but there was nothing there beyond shame and unspoken agony that both darkened his face into unreadable angles. Solas made no move to tell her she was incorrect in her thoughts and opinions, yet still the blow to her heart was profound. She breathed shakily before shifting her fingers down to the corner of Solas’ mouth, lightly pressing down on his lower lip with her thumb, committing how the silky texture of his skin felt to memory.

“In the end, Solas, you would have always left,” she said calmly through her grief, causing Solas to close his eyes in defeat. 

“I would have tried not to,” he breathed. He clenched his jaw together to keep the lip she touched from trembling.

Ellana nodded, eyes drawn to the freckles beside his narrow nose. “I know. But you would have.” When he said nothing in response, Ellana stepped forward, closing every particle of distance between them. They stood chest to chest while the wind nipped at the trees surrounding the meadow, while the wildflowers bathed in the Fade’s thin sunlight. Solas slowly felt Ellana’s arms slip around his neck, and he opened his fathomless eyes, expecting to see accusations lying in her face, but seeing none. 

Of course not.

“Are you sure this is wise?” he asked quietly, feeling her heart begin to hammer on top of his. Her eyes were open and expectant, her lips, mere inches away. It was all he could do to not flee, for safety’s sake. “Da’len, I do not wish for you to come to any more pain. If prolonging these moments will do that, then perhaps we should resist whatever temptation befalls us and return to Skyhold before they become too much to bear.”

“You are so worried about shattering me,” Ellana mused curiously, her warm breath tickling his face as they stared into each other’s eyes, “I’m not _seducing_ you, Solas. My intentions are not two-fold or dishonest. I… am saying goodbye in the most honest way I know how. I am saying farewell to the love I would have had with you under different circumstances. Tell me honestly: in this moment, don’t you feel connected to me?”

Solas’ heart was beating so fast he thought it might break into pieces. He was torn, ravaged by twin desires, one to embrace her wholly as he should have when still her lover, the other to pull away and run, to shake off her gentle touch because the thought of being in any more pain was unimaginable. He simply could not do it. 

And yet… she had asked for honesty, and right now, as his senses drowned in the depths of her beauty, he found himself unable to lie to her, unwilling to ruin the moment by injecting it with coldness and indifference. “I do,” he said quietly, the words falling from his lips like invisible feathers.

“Why is it that we are only connected like this when we are saying goodbye?” she asked him, her eyes full of unshed tears. Ellana brought her hands down to cradle each side of his face, pressing each palm to conform to the sharp edges of his cheekbones. “Why are we so opposite, Solas? So backwards? So --”

“-- Wrong?”

She nodded, ignoring the smooth trails of moisture left behind on her face as the tears fell.

Solas inhaled shakily, aware that his arms were still hanging uselessly by his sides. He managed to keep them there out of sheer willpower and habit, still unsure whether he wanted to grab her close or push away. She remained silent while he stared down at her with unmistakable heartache in his eyes, their faces only inches apart when the steel in his gaze yielded to the fiery violet color of her own. 

“We are only wrong in this world, ma vhenan. In another…”

“We would have been right.”

“Yes.”

“Then I will wait for you in that world,” she said confidently, her tone still soft and wisp-like, “And though we shall part ways in this one as friends, I will still be there in the beyond, awaiting for the moment we find each other again so that I may kiss your lips and delight in the freckles upon your nose. It will be right, and I will know that I was wise to wait for you there instead of here.” 

Ellana slowly closed her eyes, each dark lash casting shadows like spiders upon the rest of her face. His body, however, began to tremble, the flower in her hair brushing by his ear. “Forgive me, vhenan,” he whispered, not wanting to give a voice to his weakness, “You deserve so much more than this. Ir abelas. _Ir abelas.”_

“I’m not,” she said, causing Solas to grimace. The wind stirred her hair around him and the Fade’s sunlight seemed blaze in a declaration of statement; he also closed his eyes, wanting to imprint the image of her silhouette glowing forever onto his brain. “Thank you for saying that, Solas, but I’m not sorry. It was worth it. _You_ were worth it.”

“Then perhaps you _are_ a fool,” he said darkly, a pained grin contorting his flawless face, “Perhaps we are both fools, finally realizing the consequences of our actions, hopelessly dashed against the tide of fate in all of our blundering.”

“There is nothing hopeless about, you Solas.”

The pure conviction in her voice pierced him so thoroughly that it was hard to remain upright. Having their eyes closed only added to the intimacy of the situation; Solas could feel every line of her body connected with his, from the round space of her forehead upon his brow all the way down to her chest, even down to the angular planes of her hips pressing lightly against his faded leggings. His jaw clenched and unclenched beneath her hands; he could feel the curious friction this brought and wondered what she thought of it. If by chance someone walked into the meadow and stumbled upon them, what would they see? Two friends embraced in the final throes of a goodbye, or perhaps, two lovers on the brink of a passionate affair? 

Only with Ellana could they be the same thing.

“You are wrong,” he said fiercely, almost gutturally as he grabbed her by the waist. Solas yanked her into his chest, commanding her body to obey as he crushed his mouth to hers with jagged emotion that caught Ellana by surprise; she felt her breath evaporate in his intensity. Ellana tasted her own tears as their lips molded together in harmony, both soft and hard in every instance, as if he couldn’t make up his mind whether to be gentle or not. Solas was everywhere, lingering on her back, in her hair, on her tongue… it was the first time she felt like she could actually touch him and feel something _real_ of his soul, and how cruel of him that it was only in their goodbye that he allowed this to be. Solas bowed when she suddenly pulled him closer, her hands fisting in the collar of his sweater almost angrily as she demanded to be given this moment of unblemished insight into his depths.

She had kissed Solas before but never like this, never without restraint. The feel of his lips and tongue sliding over hers was like velvet, sending wild shivers rippling down her spine. She ardently cupped his neck, momentarily raising a hand to brush across the tip of one of his pointed ears. He shuddered instantly at the contact, and Ellana could feel his fingers knotting in her long hair, purposely grasping at each strand without caution, as if all he desired was a baptism of silver and grey. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to melt into his body, to join his soul and become one with the mysterious elf. When Solas exhaled raggedly into her mouth, she felt him pause, hesitating on her lips with uncharacteristic reluctance.

“Ar lath, ma vhenan,” he whispered, the whooshy currents of air resonating on her mouth like bitter medicine. _“Goodbye.”_

Ellana noticed the near-anger drain out of her as Solas slowed their passion, the last remnants of their kiss becoming more sweeter than before and more gentle, like the pink flower woven innocently into her hair. She held still as he took her face in both hands, removing them from her waist, and pressed their lips together one last time, his mouth like silk and relief against the wetness of her tear-stained mouth. A piece of her heart was instantly restored by this chaste gesture, and Ellana sagged slightly with relief, knowing that she had been right to push this confrontation as far as it’d gone, to make him tangible. It was like one of the pearls in her soul had been finally knocked loose, allowing that part of her to become able to heal. For the first time in three days, things felt… _bearable._

When the kiss ended, Ellana pulled back slightly to look at Solas. He was flushed, his cheeks and eyes bright with controlled excitement. “Solas, _thank you_ ,” she said meaningfully, feeling his heart beating painfully fast in his ribcage, atop her own. “You don’t know what you’ve given me.”

But perhaps he did. Solas gazed down at her with an ancient understanding in his eyes, as if he could visibly see the part of her that had become untangled. His slender eyebrows drew upwards as he smiled wistfully at Ellana, affection and adoration warm on his face. He released her politely, clasping each of his own hands behind his back and inclining his head, the dawning shadow of his stoic mask just beyond the far reaches of his courtesy. 

“You are a rare and marvelous spirit, Ellana. It was nothing more than what was already yours.”

She swallowed back further tears, not wanting to dampen the moment with further emotion. All had been said and done, and there was nothing to be gained from prolonging an already ended memory. Instead, Ellana inhaled the scent of the wind once more, memorizing the individual perfumes the meadow had to offer in her mind, for she knew that she would never return to this place again. She wondered if Solas would do the same, or if he would visit this place in a reverent manner, to pay tribute to its beauty and the beauty of their moments here. Both options seemed equally possible.

“Goodbye, then, my beautiful fool,” Ellana said slowly, watching sadly as Solas’ features became once more clouded by the pale darkness he wore so well, the camouflage he always wore when he needed to conceal his pain, “See you in the next world.”

Solas nodded in vague agreement, the sunlight glinting off his untouchable eyes like opals. “Farewell, ma vhenan. Be happy. Love Cullen well.”

Ellana blinked once, dimly aware of the way Solas’ voice sounded far too distant, and then all was gone and she was floating, floating, floating... floating away from the Fade and her dream-love, and the promising future with him that would never be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana returns to Skyhold and Dorian makes feeble jokes to make her laugh.

Reality and the material world felt like being wrapped up in a comforting blanket, all safe and warm and heavy. Ellana stirred in her bed, sleepily adjusting to the information her senses were trying to bombard her with. Her instances in the Fade felt suddenly oppressive - ten times as weighted as regular dreams. Wonder and grief and acceptance and sorrow and forgiveness and joy all swirled inside; she lay dazed for a few moments, allowing her mind and body to take in these significant changes, her heart picking up speed only to slow back down again.

Solas, pained and raw, with each grey eyes reflecting the agony within his soul. That is what seemed to be the most prevalent image behind the Inquisitor’s closed eyes, so she hastily opened them, welcoming the light that poured from her room’s massive windows. She breathed in the scent of dust and books like she had never smelled them before and pushed herself upright with careful movements, noticing how stiff and sore and extremely uncomfortable her body was - perhaps from laying down so long.

“Ellana?”

She turned at once towards the sleepy voice, her long hair askew and bed covers bunched around her waist. Dorian was staring at her dumbly, brown eyelids drooping with fatigue as he sat awkwardly in a chair set against her mattress, his chin sunk into the front of his chest like a child. Ellana smiled happily, grinning even wider when the mage quickly scrambled onto the bed in a lightning fast motion. He grabbed at her roughly and hugged her to him, their knees and fronts clashed together as he nuzzled his face into her sweaty hair.

“ _Venhedis_ , Ellana, I thought… well, I didn't know when you were coming back,” he said hoarsely, expelling a long breath that scattered more pieces of her hair around, tickling them both. “Thank the Maker! We… _I_ have missed you terribly, dear girl. Where did you _go?”_

Tears welled up in Ellana’s throat as Dorian released her, and the handsome mage was quick to clean them off her face with his fingers as she spoke, her heart feeling so light and glad at seeing her best friend again. She could not help but lean her face into each finger, her voice sounding dry and unused as she spoke.

“I’m so sorry, Dorian,” she said rapidly, each word picking up speed with remorse, “I didn't know I was gone that long, I swear. To me, it only felt like a few hours! I didn’t plan any of it. If I’d known… I just needed the time to think, Dorian. I really, truly needed it.”

Dorian swooped down and kissed her forehead lightly, taking his hands in hers with an ease and carefree manner that Solas would never be capable of. “It’s all right, darling. Everything is all right. We _have_ managed to function without you, believe it or not. Maybe you’re just not as important to us as we thought you were!”

Ellana laughed unexpectedly, color flooding into her clammy face. “I’ve been trying to tell you that from the beginning, you _ass.”_

Dorian joined in her laughter, though Ellana soon started to sway, her knees on the mattress becoming perilously wobbly with exhaustion. She seemed to crumple as overwhelming sensations of hunger and light-headedness ravaged her empty body, and Dorian’s eyes widened in fear, his chuckles dying quickly upon his lips.

“Dorian,” she murmured absently as her vision began to blur, turning his face into a canvas of brown and black, “I don’t feel good.” 

Dorian was quick to act however, and she didn't protest when he reached forward and grabbed a hold of her, fastening each hand underneath her body in a cradle that took the weight off her own limbs. The Tevinter mage laid her down in a graceful movement so that her head rested upon her pillow once more, in her original position, and he drew the bed’s blankets up around her chest before smoothing back her hair with a paternal hand.

“I’m going to go get you some food and water,” he said sternly, raising an eyebrow at her as if to dare Ellana into challenging him. She didn’t. “Do you think you can manage to stay here for a little while longer? You won’t go slipping off into more comas while I’m gone or anything?”

Ellana’s eyes shined bright with mirth as Dorian climbed off the mattress, each movement slow and tired, as if he hadn’t moved much in the past few days either. Ellana regarded him with a disapproving glare and he shrugged, rolling his eyes at her as if to say, _well it wasn’t my fault you were gone so long._ Which was true, considering, but that didn’t mean she had wanted him to _petrify_ in her absence!

She sighed in defeat, feeling her body conform to the soft contours of her mattress once more. “No more comas. I promise.”

“Oh, how kind of you!”

“Dorian, wait.”

The mage arched an eyebrow at her, his dark hair and robes a glorious mess that somehow only accentuated his foreign beauty. “What is it?”

“Before you come back, could you please tell Cullen that I would like to speak with him?” she asked shyly, her gaze lowering in unsure embarrassment.

Dorian’s face quickly darkened, and he looked closed off for a moment, if not uncomfortable. It was a curious thing to witness. When was the last time Dorian had been careful with her? “I will try, darling,” was all he said in response.

“You’ll _try?”_ What did that even mean?

The hidden accusation in her tone brought a proud smile to Dorian’s face, however, giving it light and animation once more. He ran his fingers through his hair, combing through the knots and ruffling it thoroughly. He looked just a bit more presentable after that. “Our handsome Commander has been somewhat… distant these past few days. No one has been able to track him down for more than five minutes, and he rarely stays in his office for longer than he needs to.”

“Spit it out, Dorian. What are you saying?”

Dorian bristled awkwardly, shying away from the intense scrutiny of the elven Inquisitor by averting his eyes away from her. “He thinks the loss of your clan is his fault, so he’s been… sort of… inconsolable about your absence, really.”

 _“WHAT?”_ Ellana shrieked loudly, but Dorian was abruptly by her side again to hold her down; she had thrown off the covers in an instant and attempted to get to her feet, faint and weak or not. Dorian’s hands on her shoulders prevented her from moving, however, and she glared at him icily, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. That made twice in three days.

“Dorian, get off. I need to see him!”

“I understand, Ellana,” Dorian retorted while rolling his eyes, the action much less nonchalant while he huffed from physical exertion, “Trust me, I _get_ it. But you can hardly blame the man for sulking. After all, it was _his_ plan that was put into action. Maybe you should give him the time he needs to recuperate, just as you were given your own time. Did you ever think about that?”

Neither the beautiful sunlight streaming into her gilded bedroom nor Dorian’s handsome face could appease her. Ellana swore angrily and leaned her head back, her silver curls scattering around her head like an inverted waterfall upon her pillow. The loss of her clan… how simple it seemed in words and yet how devastating its chain of effects had been! Ellana felt her heart squeeze painfully at the thought and she sighed, her energy depleting as fast as it had come.

Dorian brushed a few knuckles across her jawbone, using the other hand to tuck her in… again. “What do you want me to do, love?”

Was she as pale as she felt? Ellana blinked up at the ceiling, feeling foolish for being so hot-tempered so quickly. “I want to talk to Cullen,” she said calmly, glancing at Dorian to see his reaction. His face was unreadable, however. “He has had _three_ days to feel be alone with his thoughts. No more! There is absolutely no sense in him being in prolonged pain when I can remedy it. I can help him. I know I can. And maybe… maybe he can help me too,” she mused absently, yearning to comfort those anguishes eyes of his that she loved so much. “If you find him, Dorian, please tell him to come. _Please.”_

Dorian beamed at Ellana curiously, almost as if he was proud of her. “I will do so,” he said compliantly, his smile fading slightly as an unwelcome thought crossed his mind. “But what of Solas? Would you like to see him as well? You _did_ try to kill him. And… you blew up his study… to tiny, little, nonexistent bits.”

Ellana froze where she lay, his spoken name like the ghost of a lancet through her chest. Should she tell Dorian about their encounter in the Fade? Or should she lock that memory away for her own safe-keeping? She looked up at Dorian and knew at once that she would never be able to keep something like that a secret from him for long. Plus, Ellana didn't want to have any secrets. Not with Dorian - not with anyone. She decided that she would tell Dorian everything that happened... at a later date. Firstly, she needed to recover, and mourn the relentless ache in her soul. That would undoubtedly take some time.

Ellana breathed a little easier after that. “Leave him be,” she said thoughtfully, her face even and kind. “Solas will forgive me.”

“You know this for certain?” Dorian asked, his forehead creasing with surprise.

Ellana nodded, smiling a smile only for herself to understand - for now. “I’m certain. He’s my friend, Dorian.”

Dorian glanced at her curiously, idling at the weight behind each word, but shrugged a moment later, reaching down to touch her on the top of her nose before winking his long eyelashes in her direction. “If you say so! I’ll be back in a bit, darling... and remember: no more comas. You promised. Don’t make me go into the Fade to find you myself because if you do… I will be _extremely_ cross, and believe me dear girl, _no one_ wants to see that. ”

With that, Dorian prompt exited her quarters, leaving Ellana alone and free to succumb to the peacefulness that was her room, to the proud beauty that was Skyhold’s castle. It was true that grief still slashed at her heart - a few moments by herself and already she could feel the thick and dreadful cascade of emotion building up inside her throat, but this time, she tried to breathe through it, not at all fighting against the deep tide of its pain, or as Solas had said, the tide of fate.

_Solas._

_Dorian._

_Josephine._

_Leliana._

_Cullen._

_Solas._

_Family,_ she thought to herself, as gentle tears met the rise of her cheeks once more, their watery membranes dissolving into the fanned-out hair by her temples. A family of a different nature, yes, but family nonetheless.

All hers.

All Ellana’s.

How lucky she truly was.


End file.
